Promises
by Nicole Berman
Summary: SEQUEL TO "LETTERS FROM HOME". Everything can hinge on a few words.


"Hey."

He felt the wind sucked from his sails at the sound of her voice. "Oh. Hi."

"Is it--have I caught you at a bad time?"

She sounded tired, and he had to fight the urge to worry. "No, no, it's fine. I just walked in the door."

"I can call back later."

"It's fine," he repeated. When had things become so awkward between them? His mind spiraled back to another phone call, inviting her - begging her, if he were to be honest with himself - to come to Las Vegas and work on Holly Gribbs' shooting. By the time he returned to the present, Sara was talking again.

"So I'm leaving for New York tomorrow," she was saying. "I just wanted to let you know, in case you were...I don't know. You have my cell phone number."

"I'm glad you did." Grissom sighed silently, scratching Hank behind the dog's ears. The silence stretched out, and he could hear Sara's soft breathing through the phone. "You're prepared to see your father's family?"

Sara laughed wryly. "I don't think anything could prepare me for that. What am I going to do, walk in and say 'Hi, I'm Lenny's kid. My mom killed him, but you know, don't blame me, I just watched'?"

"Sara," Grissom chided softly.

"I know." Sara sighed. "I'm just nervous."

"I know," he echoed. "I would think your family would be more inclined to view you as your father's daughter than your mother's. The human psyche is wired to make connections and to give the benefit of the doubt." She made a small noise of doubtful agreement, and Grissom added, "And on a completely pragmatic note, what will worrying about it do?"

"You're right." He could hear the smile in Sara's voice. "How'd you get so smart?"

Chuckling, Grissom replied, "Years of dealing with bugs. They do what evolution designed them for, and nothing else. You never see a cockroach worrying about fitting in, or a boll weevil with anxiety."

"Actually, I have," Sara teased. "I once saw a dragonfly with a toupee. I think he had low self-esteem about his receding antennae."

Grissom laughed fully for the first time since he'd read Sara's 'Dear Gil' letter. "Perhaps his girlfriend had a problem with bald men."

"Maybe." Sara sighed, but she sounded more relaxed, and Grissom felt himself relaxing in response. "How's Hank?"

"Holding up. He misses you. Every time the elevator dings, he runs to the door."

"Does he," Sara murmured. "I'm sorry."

Grissom gave a shrug he knew she couldn't see. "He'll be all right."

"Yeah." There was a pause, then Sara spoke, and the smile was back in her voice. "How's work?"

"Good. Really good, actually. We just got the most amazing case." Grissom started explaining the complicated love triangle and how a piece of dental floss had figured prominently in cracking the case. Midway through his story, Hank started whining and wouldn't stop. "I miss you," Grissom teased Sara, "if only because you didn't mind taking Hank out."

"Of course I minded," Sara laughed. "But then I'd come back upstairs, and you'd be bent over the desk, totally engrossed in a bug or a report. And I'd get to stand there watching you. You hardly ever noticed me."

"I find it hard to believe I could ignore you," Grissom replied dryly.

Sara chuckled. "Well, you did. You're completely oblivious when you're working, Gil."

"My apologies. I'll make it up to you now," he offered. "You have my undivided attention. Actually, revise that -- you _will_ have my undivided attention in about five minutes. Can you hold on?"

The confusion came through the phone line, clear as a bell. "Sure."

Grissom was back in the promised five minutes, changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt and climbing into bed. "Okay, I'm all yours. Come on, Hank. Come on up." He patted the bed and the dog clambered up, settling in beside Grissom.

"Are you... you're in bed," Sara deduced.

"That I am." Grissom propped himself against the headboard. "You have to hear the end of the case," he said, picking up the thread of conversation where they'd left off. He went on to tell her the details about how they'd solved the case, and she responded with a few stories from the weeks she'd spent with her mother, all filtered through the eyes of an investigator. He'd just started to update her on the status of his beehive when call waiting beeped in. Asking Sara to hold, he flipped over to the other caller and came back sighing. "I'm sorry. That was Nick--Warrick called out. They need me."

"Go," Sara said gently. "It was good talking to you."

"You, too. I'll--" He broke off, unsure of how to end the sentence.

"Yeah," she agreed immediately to his unspoken response. "We'll do it again soon. Bye, Griss. Be safe."

Her automatic admonition made Grissom's heart skip a beat. "I'll see you when I see you."

"Yeah, you will."

----------

The text message set her phone to buzzing as she sat in the airport, trying to concentrate on a novel she'd picked up.

_These are the days when I understand your choice._

Sara smiled thinly to herself. _Don't burn that supero cape just yet,_ she wrote back. _They need you._

_I just ache._

Sara's heart clenched in response, and she felt tears fill her eyes. She hated seeing the job Grissom loved tearing him apart, but such was the nature of his profession. She thought for a long time before sending a reply. She had taken away the only thing that eased his pain - her. And she knew she had no right to offer anything while she was so far away, resolving the old, scarred pain in her own heart, but she had to help him somehow. _Hang on, honey. I'll be home soon._

THE END


End file.
